Crystal's One Night of Love

In the cloak of the night, nestled in the narrow alley, stood an age-worn dwelling.

Henry’s gaze was fixated on his younger sister, who he had doted on for many years. He examined her attire, plain to the point of austerity, and the crumbling structure that served as her shelter.

His eyes throbbed with a sting that could not be suppressed, and the fingers that clutched his cigarette trembled subtly.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he stepped inside the place and scanned around. “Where’s the kid?”

Melora was taken aback. “Has Crystal told you?”

Henry responded in a helpless tone, “Do you expect her to help you keep it a secret and watch as you continue living in this squalor? Whose child is it?”

Up until that moment, he was truly oblivious to the identity of the child’s father.

Melora wouldn’t let him in the room.

Henry extinguished his cigarette, exhaling the last puff of smoke. “Who is it?”

No matter who the father was, he wanted to beat him up so badly and break his teeth.

Melora blocked the door, pleading in a hushed voice, “Berthold and I are doing fine. Henry, I can support him on my own. Please don’t ask anymore!”

Henry’s eyes reddened.

He was but half a step away from her. With an outstretched arm, he pulled her to the side and entered the room.

The bedroom was of meager proportion, not even covering ten square meters.

An aged bed and a tiny desk housing several dozen magazines was all it contained.

Henry flicked through the trashy magazines, all showcasing Melora on the cover, the young lady of the Miller family.

He swallowed hard, making his way toward the old bed.

On it, lay a small child, slumbering peacefully.

His skin was fair, and he had a full head of dark brown hair.

Henry’s eyes turned bloodshot at the familiar eyes and unique hair color.

He no longer needed to ask Melora who the father was, as there was no need to do so anymore!

Henry whirled around, his eyes burning holes into his little sister.

Melora’s lips quivered, and her face contorted in distress as she pleaded, “Henry, don’t look for him! Don’t… I’ve broken up with him.”

Henry reached out, tenderly touching the little boy.

He paused and asked gently, “Him? Which him? Melora, tell me.”

Melora covered her mouth in shock.

It dawned on her that Henry must have realized who the father was.

Henry’s voice was dangerously low as he said, “When did you two become a thing? Do you understand what you’re doing? He’s at least ten years older than you. A man of his stature, in his forties and still unmarried, has had his share of meeting women from all walks of life, so why would he be attracted to a greenhorn like you?”

Melora was crushed.

She knew she had been punching above her weight.

Henry didn’t ask anymore. He took off his coat, put it on little Berthold, and gently lifted.

“Henry!” Melora clutched his arm, begging.

In the dim light, Henry’s expression was as calm as still water. “Either you come home with me now, or I call Alfred to pick you and your son up. You decide.”

Melora had no choice.

She packed some clothes and followed Henry.

the stairs, Berthold

of fear in his expression, but he

patted his head, assuring gently, “I am your uncle.

Melora, Berthold relaxed,

little boy into the child seat in his car, then turned to

the car, murmuring, “Could you not tell Mom and

“You’re afraid now?”

got in. He was infuriated and wanted to smoke. However, he refrained from doing so out of consideration for the small

he gently stepped on

hour later, the car slowly

disturb Crystal for she had her own worries. The sound of the opening. and closing of the door stirred her awake. She

she saw Henry holding Berthold,

for a

“Let Berthold sleep with Skyler tonight. You go

Crystal nodded.

the staircase again, she opened

Berthold nestled in his arms, Henry entered, gingerly tucking the tiny boy into the warm

bed was too soft, or the day had been too long, for the

awoke just a sliver, her eyes cracking open into slits before she rolled over, pulling Berthold close to her as

were

felt his heart soften at the

Berthold. “This child

wore her guilt on

voice. “You must have figured out who the old scoundrel is,

more vulgar than he

the children hear

her a fierce glare, but times had

who was once frightened now wore an armor of courage. “Don’t take your anger out on me,” she warned him boldly as she exited the

eased the tense look on his

hand. “Stay with Melora. I’ll head to the

Crystal agreed with a

yet addressed. Yet, when faced with the situations at home, they instinctively leaned on one

am I to do? After all, I am Melora’s brother, and Crystal is

room. Softly, she began, “Don’t mind your brother’s Let’s freshen up first. Let me

about to step out,

wave of emotion washed over her

Melora’s hand, she reassured, “You should have come back sooner.

out in

hair gently and said, “I’ll go prepare something for us to eat. You take

Melora nodded.

By the time everything was ready, Melora had

dressed in her own cotton pajamas, the kind where the vibrant

Crystal noticed.

and beckoned with a tremble in her voice,

and began to

she was silent, no longer the chatterbox who couldn’t stop talking like

simply kept

scared. He couldn’t marry me back then,

could she

she had single-handedly raised their child, living

Alfred had shared good times together. However, they were swept away by the winds of time just

spot him in the newspaper. He was still

Melora Miller, had lost her youthful radiance. Moreover,

Crystal said, “Your brother will, after all, need to vent his anger. But he would never hurt Berthold.” She could

girl nodded

went

room was dim, save for a single wall

the desk, smoking. The ashtray before him was filled to the brim, a clear sign of his

the door behind her, walked to the window, and

smoking too much! Aren’t you afraid

her in

was different from any other night, as Crystal voluntarily approached him, sat on his lap, and tenderly

out the cigarette

while before he finally spoke in a hoarse whisper, “Crystal, have I failed? If I hadn’t insisted on going to Kingdom of Brundela back then, your uncle and Melora may not have had the chance